Chapter Three: Death
Image by juliaf at stock.xchnge
Maryland 1685
“Simeon!”
He could hear the commotion coming his way. Little Clara should have known better than to run through the slave quarters late at night, screaming that way. If the overseer heard her, there would be trouble.
Heart thumping, Simeon sat up from his makeshift-straw bed. He frowned as he peered out the little window to his home. Clara was running toward the shack, waving her hands.
There was a loud crash, followed by the door being flung open. He jumped up, grabbing the young girls arms. As he pulled her closer, he wrapped his hand around her lips. She was going to wake everybody up, if she hadn’t already.
“Girl, what’s got into you? You trying to bring one of them devils on us?”
Clara’s head shook violently as an answer. He looked down into her little cherub face. His heart broke as he saw too many tears flowing down her cheeks. Once she calmed down a little, he wiped them away with his rough thumbs.
“Simeon, it’s time. Hattie callin’ fo’ you.”
His face fell. He’d been dreading this day for weeks. No, no, it had been longer than that. Months. It felt more like years.
“What she callin’ for me for?” he growled at the girl.
Clara took a step back, head turned down toward the floor. She looked up at him with worried, doe eyes. Tears fell harder.
He hadn’t meant to take it out on her. Clara was barely ten if she was a day. She didn’t understand the ways of men and women, and how much loving someone who didn’t love you back could burn your heart. If Hattie hadn’t let that white bastard do those things to her, she wouldn’t be in the boat she was in.
“She yo’ friend, right?”
Simeon wrapped his arms around his body. Despite the summer heat, he felt chilled to the bone, like someone had stepped on his grave.
“Yeah,” he whispered and it sounded bitter.
“You gotta see her, Simeon,” Clara pleaded with him, “The Old Woman’s there. She say somethin’ wrong.”
Simeon stared at her, blankly. Something was wrong? Not with Hattie. That couldn’t be right. Everything had been fine for the last nine months. Why would something go wrong now.
Taking in a deep breath, he nodded, “Take me to her.”
Clara gave him a weak and watery smile. She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. Timidly, she began pulling him out of the shack.
As they got closer to the Old Woman’s hut, he could hear the screams. It didn’t sound like the normal child birthing he’d heard from other girls. His pace quickened, so much so that little Clara couldn’t keep up with him. Seconds later, he rushed into the hut, slamming the wooden door open.
He paused, hand gripping the door jab. He leaned against it, unable to stand. Clara joined him wrapping her little arms around his waist while pressing her face into his side.
There was so much blood. Too much blood.
The Old Woman was between Hattie’s leg. Hattie’s brown linen sleep dress stained with red from the bottom to about her waist. And her screams…They tore through him, pulling out his heart and throwing it on the floor.
Hattie’s tear and sweat soaked face turned to him. She reached out for him as another scream ripped from her throat. Her body arched, tensed with pain.
Simeon ran to her, grabbing that hand. She squeezed it as if he were the only thing keeping her in the world. Tears began welling in his coal black eyes and he didn’t even bother trying to hide them. He turned to look at the Old Woman.
“Sommin’ ain’t right here. That ol’ debil man did this here. Said he gonna beat the ebil out of her.”
When Hattie’s body found of moment of peace, she flopped back into the bed, gasping and sobbing. Simeon brought her hand up to his chest and laid it flat against his bare skin.
“I’m here, Hattie, I’m here,” he whispered.
She tried to smile, but he wish she hadn’t. It looked like it was more effort than she needed to exert right now. He rubbed her soaked arm gently with his hand.
“I’s sorry, Simeon, I’s sorry,” she whimpered over and over again.
“Hush, now, you need to save yo’ strength for that baby comin.’”
Another wave came over her. Hattie’s nails ripped into Simeon’s skin, tearing open his flesh. He grunted but took the pain almost like he was embracing it. All he could do was hold her hand and wait. Silently, he prayed like he never prayed before. Of all people for the Lord to take, Hattie didn’t need to be one of them.
“I ain’t gonna make it. I ain’t gonna make it.”
“Yes, you is, you just gotta keep fightin’ it.”
He gave her hand a kiss, just as her back bowed again. The Old Woman began singing a hymn from the fields. A sad sort of dirge that made Simeon worried. Hattie screamed so much that he was sure that her throat had to burn from it.
The Old Woman groaned, uttering a curse. Simeon was sure that he heard some kind of wet rip. He swallowed down the gorge rising in his throat. Clara began crying.
“I needs ya’ll to get out of here,” the Old Woman yelled out.
Simeon looked at her, pleading with her. She gave him a sympathetic, but not reassuring smile, “I’s gonna do all I can, Simeon, that be all I ken promise.”
He stepped away from Hattie, watching with horror as her eyes rolled in the back of her head. There were so many things left to say. Something deep in his gut told him that this was the last chance. Hattie was going to die. His beautiful Hattie was going to die on him right here, right now. Nothing he could do could save her.
Heaven help him, someone was going to pay. Even if it took his last breath, someone would pay.
He grabbed Clara’s arm and headed toward the door. Before he could reach it, the Old Woman grabbed his arm with her blood-drenched hand. Her eyes were dark and wild as she stared up at him.
“You best be careful out dere, Simeon. Dere be worse debils out there. Dere be worse debils. Dun let
em get yo,’ here me?”
Simeon nodded slowly. The Old Lady walked a strange path, and he didn’t understand where she was coming from. It didn’t matter, though. The world was a haze of red.
He continued pulling Clara out of the hut. He could hear her cries, but ignored them. Pulling her close to roughly, he put the little girl before him.
“Go on home, Clara. Run on home.”
“Simeon,” she cried out, “What you doin’?! Dun get yourself hurt. Dun go after the Massa!”
“Ain’t none yo’ concern, lil girl. You just go home,” he roared, pointing a finger at her.
Clara took a step back, stiff and frightened. He took a step toward her. She took off through the compound.
He turned his face up at the heavens, hoping that this was all some sort of dark dream. Blindly, he started walking in the direction of the Manor, where revenge awaited him. Sweet, glorious revenge.
“I am very sorry about your friend,” a voice cooed at him from above.
Simeon’s face shot up toward the sound. Immediately, he made himself ready for a fight. No one was going to stand in his way.
He saw the man, sitting in a tree. He seemed to be wearing very fine clothes of day. His skin was paler than any white man Simeon had ever seen, and it almost seemed to glow in the moonlight.
“What you know about it?”
The other man smiled. It was neither friendly nor vicious. It didn’t matter. Simeon was nervous no matter what it meant.
“Something,” he said in a very thick accent. “Perhaps, too much.”
“So, what, you come here just to make fun? What you playin’ at?!” Simeon raged.
The pale man laughed at him. It only fueled the rage. Simeon charged at the tree, grabbing at the man’s dangling leg. With the slightest of touches, the pale man kicked Simeon to the ground. He felt a crunch as he hit the ground followed by a hint of pain.
“That anger. I like it. It can be powerful.”
The well-dressed man hopped down from his perch. He slowly sauntered over to Simeon, offering his hand. Simeon didn’t take it, but the man continued to hold it there with an unnatural stillness. In fact, everything about him was unnatural, especially his eyes.
“I was like you once. I belonged to a man. A cruel man. An Englishman who took me away from Deutschland and brought me to this miserable colony.”
He joined Simeon on the ground, kneeling beside him on one knee. The strange man leaned in, eyes half-lidded. He sniffed the air around Simeon as though smelling a cooked roast. Simeon held his breath, shifting slightly to get away, but something in the man’s eyes commanded him to remain still. He could only comply.
“For seven years, I waited quietly. I was as obedient as any man could be. Yet, I was misused in ways no man dare says.” The man leaned in closer, a crazed smile tugging at his thin lips. “When I was finally free, I was given the opportunity to call in the debt to my master.” The man laughed and it was a harsh, barking sound.
Simeon deserately wanted to avert his eyes, but he simply was not allowed. His body began to shake.
“I am offering you the same opportunity as I had.”
He rubbed Simeon’s face with his fingertips. They were surprisingly sharp. The tingling pain helped Simeon focus.
“Offer?” Simeon asked in a voice that trembled.
The well-dressed man nodded slowly, “I will give you power beyond your imaginings. Powers that will destroy the ones who hurt your dear Hattie. The power of life everlasting.”
“What kind of debil are you?”
The man laughed again, “I am nothing of the sort, and frankly, none of them would be interested in you.”
Simeon didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted by that response.
“Now,” the strange-man cooed while rubbing Simeon’s lips, “I will only offer you this once. Should you say no, you will be walking to your death…And Hattie will never be revenged. But, if you do…”
He left it up in the air. Simeon knew what would happen if he tried to avenge Hattie. In fact, he was counting on it. A life without her wouldn’t be a life. Everything was suddenly so muddled. What did he mean by power? And he said something about ‘life everlasting?’ It didn’t sound like a smart idea. But, honestly, he’d always been a man of action. Right now wasn’t a time to think.
Despite the fear, Simeon nodded, “Show me. I want them to hurt like my Hattie. Show me how to hurt them.”
The strange man’s smile widened to a grin, teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Simeon gasped as he noticed that those teeth were much too sharp. He realized, just as the man pounced on him, that he’d made a pact with some sort of evil. When those razor teeth sank into his flesh, he prayed that he hadn’t made a horrible mistake. And, as he took his first taste blood and felt his body slowly die, he knew that his wrath was well within his grasp.
